Gone Forever
by plusquemoi
Summary: My own version of what happened when Swiftpaw and Brightpaw went out to find the dog pack, in order to prove to Bluestar that they were ready to become warriors. Swift/Bright.


**So, I got inspiration to write about this story from the pen name of Swiftpaw of WindClan, and decided to write this. I loved Swiftpaw, and was sad to see him die.**

**I hope you like it, even if it is depressing. Dont forget to review!**

**Disclaimer: Well, it _is_ called a 'disclaimer'for a reason.**

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He could see the dogs approaching, saliva dripping down their furry chins, pooling at their paws in a wet, coagulated mess. Their eyes peered down at him, scrutinising his scrawny black and white pelt, figuring out how long it would take for them to kill him.

Swiftpaw knew the answer wasn't going to be in his favour.

The leader of the pack growled fiercely and bared its yellow teeth at the young apprentice, and stepped one pace forward.

Swiftpaw's eyes widened in terror, knowing the end was nearly here.

It was only now, as he stared death in the face, that Swiftpaw realised how stupid this mission had been. How stupid he was to have thought that finding out what was eating the prey at Snakerocks would help Bluestar make him a warrior, how stupid he was to have endangered another apprentice's life in the process.

The ThunderClan apprentice looked guiltily at the still form of Brightpaw, flung to one side as the dog pack had trampled all over her. She would be lucky to live; he could see from where he was that one side of her face was completely gone, and that she was barely breathing.

He nearly wailed his sorrow right then and there. Brightpaw, the white she-cat with ginger splotches, and the apprentice he had begun to have deeper feelings than friendship for. The apprentice that he would most likely never see again, and she him.

He would never be able to tell her how he felt, or that he was sorry for dragging her into this mess. And if she lived, she would be scarred forever, on her face and in her soul.

Swiftpaw's heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces as he realised he had hurt her. The young tom's heart had broken, and he knew he would die, physically and spiritually.

How his heart hurt.

But as the final moments Swiftpaw decided he would do one last thing for the cat he loved, one last act of friendship. He would make sure Brightpaw survived, that the dogs would forget about her.

He ran, far away into part of the forest that he had hardly been in. He could feel the hot breath of the pack on his heels, could hear their panting, their huge paws pounding against the ground.

They caught him sooner than he had expected, the first pinning him down by the tail so that he was jolted back, mid-run. He fell backwards hard against the forest floor, and by the time he got to his feet, the rest of the pack had surrounded him, eyes glinting with bloodlust.

So this was the end.

Swiftpaw unsheathed his claws and hissed as menacingly as he could, the fear he had felt moments ago being overridden with a fierce madness. If he was to die, then he would die bravely, and fighting.

The leader of the pack howled into the sky, and then pounced at the small black and white form.

Swiftpaw dodged the first dog, and quickly scraped his claws across its flank as it sailed past him. The second dog flew at him, and he dodged again, but this time into the path of a third dog.

The large hound threw him against the ground, barking triumphantly, and lunged towards Swiftpaw's neck. The apprentice swiped the dog across its nose, and the beast drew back. The tom wriggled out from underneath the crushing weight of the huge dog's paws, scrambling under the one who had pinned him down and ripping savagely at its stomach with his hind claws. The dog screamed, running away with its tail between its legs. Swiftpaw gained a second of hope, but realised he was still far outnumbered.

The leader of the pack barked out another order of sorts to its companions. Without any warning, the whole pack jumped towards Swiftpaw, the want for him strongly showing in their beady black eyes.

Swiftpaw tried his best to swerve around the flailing paws, but there were just too many for him to take on at once. It wasn't long before he was pinned against the ground again, and the jowls of the dogs were hanging over his head.

The leader of the pack stared into the small cat's eyes, and what Swiftpaw saw in them made him gasp.

There was no madness or evil as he had imagined; only a need to survive, to protect its pack. The dog was only doing what his own Clan would have done to a badger, or fox. The dogs were driving out the cats, in order to live themselves.

With this realisation came the teeth of the pack, ripping into his pelt, snapping his bones. But even so, as Swiftpaw lay there helplessly, he admired the slobbery creatures for what they were doing. They were protecting the ones they loved.

Which was more than Swiftpaw had done for Brightpaw.

Bloody and broken, the apprentice braced himself for the final blow. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the leader opened his wide mouth, leaning towards his throat.

Time seemed to slow, stretching ou the agony rippling through his small form, until all he could feel was pain, and he was begging for death to take him.

He could feel the hot breath of the dog on his neck, which reeked of crowfood. As the beast's canines enveloped his throat, Swiftpaw squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

_Finally_, he thought, _the end has come._

Suddenly, the leader pulled away from his body, ears pricked at something in the distance. It was the sound of cats gathering in their camp, and Swiftpaw knew ThunderClan would be out to look for him soon.

The hound signalled to its pack to retreat, and Swiftpaw's heartbeat quickened as they ran back in the direction of Brightpaw.

He couldn't let them kill her, not now.

The apprentice heaved himself painfully to his paws, wincing at the pain in his hind leg and chest. Swiftpaw practically began to drag himself across the ground as fast as he dared, his body protesting at every movement.

He feared the worst when he reached Snakerocks, as this part of the forest was silent, imagining the torn body that lay ahead. With a new compulsion to reach her, Swiftpaw pulled himself around the final bend.

Brightpaw lay right where she had been when he had led the pack away, and did not seem to be any further harmed.

Swiftpaw released the breath he'd been holding in relief, and the ginger patched she-cat stirred. Brightpaw blinked her remaining eye open, the other having been ripped from her face during the attack. It widened at the sight of her Clanmate; the apprentice was caked in saliva and blood, was missing patches of fur, and one of his hind legs stuck out at a strangle angle.

Swiftpaw knew he probably looked terrible, but he couldn't care less at that very moment. He had to tell her how sorry he was, and how he felt about her. She needed to know, in case their Clan didn't find them in time.

Swiftpaw opened his mouth and took a deep breath.

And then his barely beating heart failed him, his injuries being too great for his body to cope with. Swiftpaw collapsed, eyes glazed over and mouth still open, captured in what might be mistaken as a snarl.

Brightpaw watched the apprentice fall, and cried out in grief.

Swiftpaw was gone forever.

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